THE BALLAD OF DOWNTOWN JAKE is
set in the shadowy jazz scene of the late 1950’s. On the road to success, Jake
Delmonico, once crowned the greatest saxophonist America has ever heard, takes
several dark turns, which threaten his life and, ultimately, his music. Each of
the main characters—hustler, jazz man, singer, waitress—and even the one
hovering Angel—struggle with themselves and the world they find themselves
living in. Jake’s addiction to drugs has resulted in the deaths of his children
and the near ruin of his music. Harry Jones tempts Jake, again and again, with
heroin. Sugar Baby’s unrelenting grief and emotional overdependence on Jake has
pivoted her life toward drugs, alcohol and prostitution. As the Civil Rights
movement is stirring, Jasmine is beginning to confront her own anger over
injustice. At each and every turn, the Angel refuses to give up hope for these
souls of “the imperfect now.” The spirits of Johnny Dae, Charlie “Bird” Parker
and other jazz greats appear in various ways to offer comfort and not a small
amount of warning. Lust, betrayal, longing and love make the journey these five
characters take a treacherous one, marked by addiction, redemption, hope and
one last shot at fame.

"What a journey this has been!" says Lois
Roma-Deeley, who wrote the lyrics and book for the show. “After nearly 10 years
of collaborating with composer Christopher Scinto on this project and now
working with such outstanding artists, I am thrilled to see the fusion of music
and poetry, story and character, struggle and hope, come to life on stage. The
total effect is pure magic!"

Composer and musical director Christopher Scinto says, “The
musical score for JAKE is heavily influenced by the blues and small combo jazz
of the 1950s, which are fused together with musical conventions found in opera
and musical theater.”

“The opportunity to direct a new work is a rare and
wonderful one,” says Andrea Robertson. “Having the chance to turn to the
playwright and composer and say ‘what if we tried this?’ or ‘can you clarify
this character choice?’ is amazing; usually as a director you are feeling
around in the dark, guessing as best you can what the playwright meant or
wanted.”

Thursday, June 26, 2014

Excited to see my poem "Me and J. Alfred in the 21st Century" published in the Spring 2014 edition of and/or!

and/or is an international print journal devoted to publishing
experimental creative writing and graphic art by writers and artists
from around the world. and/or publishes one volume per year and follows
a double-blind editorial process for all submissions.http://www.and-or.org/

You
have heard it all before: No one reads anymore, buys books anymore,
supports small presses anymore. Fiction is taking a beating from crass
consumerism and poetry has been bludgeoned to death by a stylized ennui
that has no patience for long sentences like this one. Plays are either
musicals or revivals of musicals. Anyone untalented can publish
anything bad at any time in any format so no one has time to find the
good writing. The whole culture of American literature is in one sorry
state. Why should you—why should anyone—bother to write at all?

I am here to tell you that your poetry/short
stories/essays/plays/novels—whatever your creative writing genre happens
to be—matters. That your contribution to making the culture of our time
matters. That your devotion to the craft of writing and your efforts to
sit down and write with considered purpose and focus, or as Lucille
Clifton has said, with majorintent, matters.

I can say all this to you with some impunity because I have witnessed
firsthand how the power of language—despite the protestations of all
the cynics and the naysayers—moves audiences and readers in profound
ways.

In 2012 I was nominated for U.S Professor of the Year, an awards
program sponsored by the Carnegie Foundation for the Advancement of
Teaching and the Council for Advancement and Support of Education
(CASE). Of the award, The Chronicle of Higher Education writes: “The honor is the nation’s most prestigious teaching award.”

However, as a poet and a community college professor who teaches
creative writing and women’s studies, I was certain I would never win
such an award. I was certain I would not win—not because I was insecure
or doubted my abilities as a poet and teacher, but precisely because I
believed these abilities were at best misunderstood and, at worst,
completely disregarded by most of America.

I only completed the application for the award because the very
earnest and very sweet student who nominated me insisted that I do so.
She sat in my office with her moon-eyes and her Tinkerbell-sweet voice
insisting that I simply had to fill out the application which, as it
turned out, wound up taking me 20-plus hours to complete. I simply did
not have the heart to tell her no.

And even as she thrust the
application material into my hand, I told her yet one more time that I
was not going to win. “Poets don’t win these kinds of awards, Carolyn.
Please don’t be disappointed when I don’t win. I’m not going to win.”

But she was right and I was wrong. I did win.

In fact, I am the first national winner of this award that Arizona
has ever had in any category. As a national winner, I was asked to give
a speech at the National Press Club in Washington, D.C. to an audience
that included the U.S. Under Secretary of Education as well as college
presidents and chancellors, deans and professors from all over the
country.

Indeed, during the last few years I’ve had other successes, awards
and honors, all of which have given me opportunities I would never have
imagined possible when I was first starting out as a serious writer.

I have been invited to give poetry readings, speeches and workshops
to audiences across the country, and I have seen the cultural cynics
proved wrong many times over. As I look into the faces of strangers
whose eyes seem to lock onto mine with an intensity I find both humbling
and scary, I have learned—rather I have re-learned—that language used
with “major intent” is still a powerful, transforming force. People tell
me they are moved by my words. People tell me they have been changed.
People tell me the words matter.

So, to all of you who are sitting down today to write with major
intent, know that your efforts—though solitary and so often fraught with
frustration, longing and despair—matter. Know that there may be one
person or whole rooms of strangers who need and want to hear what you
have to say. It matters to them the work you do.

Sunday, May 19, 2013

With my friend and colleague composer Christopher Scinto and composer Judith Cloud, I was part of a vibrant a panel discussion, moderated by Laura Kelly, on "Words and Music" at the Northern Arizona Book Festival in Flagstaff, Arizona. It was an amazing discussion! Follow the links below for more information.

Wednesday, May 15, 2013

Below is the text of my keynote address that I gave at our college's graduation ceremony on May 10, 2013.

Dr. Dale,
honored guests, colleagues, graduates and all who have gathered here to
celebrate—thank you for this opportunity to speak to you tonight.

When I accepted
my award for U.S. Professor of the Year last November at the National Press
Club in Washington D.C. to an audience of educators representing colleges and
universities across our country, I was thrilled.

I was—and
am—proud to represent our college, our district and our state as well as the
community college as a national institution. It was—is—an honor to “tell the
story of us.”

Graduates, in
this suspended moment, you are, no doubt, noticing that electric feeling which
comes from alternating between relief and celebration,liberation and excitement.

But sometime
during this evening I ask you to reflect—not on what you have learned during
your time at this college—

for surely, your
diplomas and certificates testify to the knowledge you have mastered—

Graduates, I am
here to ask you this last question—a kind of final test:

What kind of
person will you be in this world which is at once harsh and beautiful, vulgar
and elegant, cynical and optimistic, threatening and brave?

Tonight I invite
you to consider the person you have become—your values, beliefs, choices and
commitments—who you are nowand
who you hope to be.

Moreover, I ask
you to reflect on this thought—you are here tonight because you have imagined
yourselves here—you have imagined possibilities for your life and your place in
the world.And you have acted on
the promises you made to yourselves born of those imaginings.

For some, during
your time at our college, you pictured yourselves sitting here at this great
gathering, even as you took a full load of classes and worked full-time—in or
outside the home—

for others, you
saw your name on a college diploma or certificate, framed handsomely on
yourwall.

And you saw this
image even as the printer ran out of ink, your car had a flat tire just before
you headed out for class;

you saw this
image in your mind’s eye even when a family member or friend or work colleague
needed your full attention as you prepared to study for a major test.

You saw all this
even when your finances ran dangerously low or, in some cases, completely out—

There are
graduates sitting here tonight—you who took classes, wrote papers, gave
presentations, joined programs and assumed leadership positions that challenged
or exhilarated and perhaps even scared you a little—or a lot—

you who believed
in this day, the time when you would be welcomed into the community of
scholars.

There are as
many stories of hard work and persistence as there are graduates tonight.

Whatever your
specific story, you all are here tonight because you did not give up.

Your imagination
led you to choices, your choices created actions, your actions brought you
here.

The dreams you
had for yourself and your life when you first came to usmay have changed. Perhaps they have
grown larger. Perhaps they have multiplied.But these dreams were—and are—of consequence.

You are here
because you believed in a future for yourself in which—despite obstacles

big and
small—your intelligence, energy, discipline, curiosity and seriousness of
purpose would bring you to this very place many call “successful.”

But I am here to
tell you that your faculty and staff also imagined this night.

Those on our
campus who—in and outside of the classroom—taught, mentored, cajoled, pushed
and challenged you.

The dreams your
faculty and staff had for youwere
realized in the courses we teach, the programs we run, the buildings we help
build, the debates we engage in, the lives we touch.

We dream the
dream of those educators who came before us and those who will come after us.
Those who believe that only citizens of an educated culture can grow into their
best selves.

And we, like our
graduates, acted on those hopes.

Yet,
there is another force operating in and on the imagination of what education
can and should be.

Graduates,
your community members, family and friends had—and have—visions for and of you.
Their dreams may be strictly personal or they may be more eclectic—but they,
too, are backed by action.

And,
as importantly, these dreams are firmly rooted in the democratic ideal which
says that where fairness and access meet determination and persistence, a “more
perfect union” is formed.

So
tonight—Graduates, Faculty, Staff, Community Members—here we sit—the living
manifestations ofhope—

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About Me

Lois Roma-Deeley's third collection of poems, High Notes, was chosen as a finalist for the 2011 Paterson Poetry Award. She is the winner of the Samuel T. Coleridge Literary Prize as well. Lois Roma-Deeley has published three collections of poetry: High Notes (2010), northSight (2006) and
Rules of Hunger (2004). High Notes
forms the basis of a jazz opera for which Roma-Deeley is writing the libretto. In collaborations with
visual artists on several ekphrasis projects, Roma-Deeley’s poems have been exhibited nationally and internationally.She founded the AWP Women's Caucus and is the organization's past president.